The Alpha Behind The Mask

Aurora’s POV

​His words felt like ice water being poured over my skin. The contract. It was a cold reminder of the deal I had made, but the man who had signed that paper never used it as a weapon like this. The real Raymond had a darkness to him, yes, but he also possessed a strange, quiet respect that always made me feel safe. This man? He made me feel like prey.

​"Raymond, please," I choked out, my hands flat against his chest, trying to create even an inch of space. "Oliver is fighting for his life. Have you no heart? How can you think of this right now?"

​He let out a sharp, dark laugh right against my pulse point. "Why do you keep bringing up a dead man? Whether he dies tonight or tomorrow, he is finished. His father is already looking for someone to blame... You’re the only one crying, Aurora. It’s pathetic."

​He gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. Those green eyes were so familiar, yet the soul behind them felt like a stranger’s. They were filled with a sick kind of joy as he watched my tears fall.

​The Raymond I knew hated my tears.

​"I’m the only one who can protect you now," he whispered, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip with a pressure that was almost painful. "If I tell the pack you were my little helper, they’ll tear you apart. You need me."

​"You’re lying," I whispered, though the fear in my gut told me he was right. If the world thought I was linked to the assassin, I wouldn’t last an hour.

​"Am I?" He leaned in, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear. "One word from me, and you’re a traitor. But if you’re a good girl... if you stay in my bed and keep your mouth shut, I might just keep you alive."

​His hand traveled higher, his palm hot and heavy against my thigh. Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to run, to scream, to fight, but I was pinned. My mind kept flickering back to the scorpion tattoo on his wrist. It was him. It had to be him. But how could a man change so much in a few hours? How could the man who held me so gently last night be this monster?

​"I’m not in the mood," I said again, my voice stronger this time, fueled by a sudden spark of disgust. "Get off me."

​"I don’t care about your mood," he snapped. The mask shifted as his jaw tightened. "I didn’t come here to talk about your feelings. I came to collect what belongs to me."

​He shoved his knee between my legs, forcing them apart as he pressed his entire weight against me. I felt the cold air of the apartment hit my skin as he hiked the gown up further. I squeezed my eyes shut, a sob catching in my throat. I thought of Oliver—of his soft smiles and the way he called my name. I felt like I was betraying him, even here, even while he was dying.

​"Look at me," the man commanded, his voice vibrating in his chest.

​I kept my eyes closed, the tears leaking out from under my lashes.

​"I said, look at me!" He growled, and for a second, the sound was so aggressive it didn’t even sound human. It sounded like a beast that had been locked in a cage for too long.

​I opened my eyes, staring into the green depths of his. I looked for a trace of the man I knew. I looked for a hint of the kindness, the hidden pain, or the softness. But there was nothing. Just a cold, empty hunger.

​"That’s better," he murmured, a cruel smirk playing on his lips behind the mask. "Now, stop crying."

​He lowered his head again, his mouth crashing onto mine in a kiss. The kiss was violent, a forced collision that carried none of the secret tenderness I had felt only twenty-four hours ago. It tasted of cruelty. I tried to twist my head away, my whimpers muffled against his mouth, but he was losing patience.

​With a sudden, violent jerk, he grabbed the neckline of my nightgown and yanked. The sound of the fabric tearing rang through the quiet apartment.

​"Stop! Please, stop!" I shrieked, my hands clawing at his chest, scratching at the dark fabric of his shirt.

​He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even grunt. He simply pulled back his hand and struck me across the face. The force of the blow was staggering; my head snapped to the side, and my vision erupted in white sparks. I went crashing to the hardwood floor, my hip taking the brunt of the fall. The world tilted, spinning out of control as I lay there, gasping for air, the awful taste of blood filling my mouth.

​Through the haze of pain, I looked up. He was standing over me, silhouetted by the dim light of the hallway. My blood ran cold as I watched his hands move to his waist. He unzipped his pants, the metallic sound of the zipper echoing in the room, and he stepped out of his dark trousers.

​"No..." I whispered, backing away on my elbows, my heels digging into the floor. "No, this isn’t him. This isn’t Raymond!"

​I knew it now. My soul knew it, even if my eyes were being fooled by that scorpion tattoo. The Raymond I knew—the man who had watched me sleep with such strange melancholy—hated my tears. This creature was feasting on them.

​"You are not Raymond!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice cracking with pure terror. "You’re a monster! Get away from me!"

​He ignored my cries, his expression hidden behind that cursed mask, and lunged for me. He grabbed my ankles and dragged me toward the bed. I kicked, I thrashed, and I buried my fingernails into the mattress, screaming until my throat felt like it was bleeding.

​"Help! Someone help me!"

​I was pinned beneath his weight, his heavy body crushing the air out of my lungs, when the front door—which he had locked—shuddered under a massive blow. Then another. On the third hit, the frame splintered, and the door flew open, hitting the wall with a deafening bang.

​Three men charged into the room. My eyes blurred with fresh tears as I recognized the man in the lead.

​"Alpha Knox!" I sobbed, the name coming out as a broken plea for mercy.

​Knox didn’t hesitate. He moved with a speed that was a blur of lethal grace. He grabbed the masked man by the back of his shirt and flung him off me as if he weighed nothing. The intruder hit the wardrobe with a bone-crushing thud, but Knox was already on him.

​The rage in Knox’s eyes was terrifying. He didn’t look surprised; he looked like he had finally found a rat he had been hunting.

​"How dare you?" Knox’s voice was a low, vibrating growl that shook the very air. "How dare you lay a hand on her?"

​The masked man scrambled to his feet, clutching his side, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "What? Stay away, Knox! This is none of your business!"

​Knox didn’t waste words. He stepped forward and delivered a devastating punch straight to the man’s face. I heard the sickening crunch of a nose breaking behind the mask. The man crumpled to his knees.

​"Get prepared," Knox hissed, standing over him, his fists clenched and trembling with the effort not to kill him right then and there. "Oliver will kill you himself for this."

​I was shivering uncontrollably on the bed, trying to pull the remnants of my gown over my body. Knox turned toward me, his expression softening instantly into one of deep concern. He stripped off his heavy leather jacket and wrapped it around me, the warmth of it enveloping me like a shield.

​"I’ve got you, Aurora. You’re safe," he whispered. He didn’t ask if I could walk; he simply tucked his arms under me and carried me out of the apartment.

​He moved past the other two men, who stayed behind to deal with the bastard on the floor. Knox climbed into the back of a waiting car with me still in his arms, nodding to the driver. As we pulled away from the curb, I collapsed against his chest, the tears flowing freely now.

​"Do you know who that was?" I asked, my voice trembling so much I could barely get the words out.

​Knox’s jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the window as the city lights blurred past. "Yes," he said shortly. "I know exactly who that was."

​"Who?" I pushed, clutching his jacket tighter. "Who would do this?"

​"Don’t worry about it right now," he said, his voice firm but kind. "He won’t bother you again. Oliver will make sure of that."

​My heart gave a painful leap at the mention of the name. "Oliver? How is he? Is he... is he still...?"

​Knox finally looked down at me, and for the first time that day, I saw a glimmer of hope in someone’s eyes.

​"He woke up, Aurora. He’s regained consciousness." Knox let out a weary breath. "The very first thing he did was whisper your name. He was demanding to see you, refusing to let the healers work until he knew where you were. That’s why I had to come with his driver to pick you up."

​He reached out, awkwardly but gently brushing a stray hair from my forehead. "Thank God I was early. If that bastard had touched you... Oliver would never have forgiven me. He would have killed me for not being able to protect you in his absence."

​I closed my eyes, a single sob escaping me. Oliver was alive. He was asking for me. Even in the middle of death, he was still reaching for me.

​"Take me to him," I whispered. "Please, just take me to him."